Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
by CocaCola Gold
Summary: AU Max the female bounty hunter, Fang the thorn in her side.  Finding the secrets to the past, on the run from people they don't know, fun stuff like that.  Give it a try, what's to lose?  FAX
1. For Those About to Rock

DIRTY DEEDS, DONE DIRTY CHEAP

-

_Okay, I know this is random, but AU, Max and Fang? Bounty hunters, duh. What's more intriguing than bounty hunters in Nevada chasing down the bad guys while finding unexpected answers where they don't belong and a history too old for comfort. Whoa- holy run-one sentence, Batman! (Song by AC/DC)_

_-_

_Tell me if it's worth continuing._

-

I stood in the door, sunglasses on, black tank top making sure my mid drift was seen enough to ensure sure all the fat old prevs out there wouldn't make me get a 'search warrant'. Yeah, I was totally badass. All I needed now was a leather jacket, some death metal and a James Dean Corvet. If only life were like the silver screen…

Anyway, today's job was simple. Bring in the perp- a college kid who had skipped bail. Not a bad one, speaking from experience. Though right about now I was reconsidering my choice in occupation. 'You can do anything Max, as long as you put your mind to it'. Somehow I knew that 'bounty hunter' was not what Jeb had been talking about. Whatever, I'll get my kicks wherever I can. Learned _that_ a long time ago.

Back to reality- I stood in the door with no backup (my 'partner' Nudge had decided to take her 'sick day' today) and I was about to face-off with some guys who did not look like they could be tempted by my mid drift, or at least not in the passive way I would have liked.

Three nasty-looking bikers began forward at me, one with a handgun. "Prudy lil' birdy, c'mere babe... Can't be more than eighteen, can ya?" The biggest (fattest) one approached quickly, faster than he should have been able at his massive size. I assumed a fighter's stance, which they apparently found rather humorous.

"Lil' chick thinks she's gonna get outta this today!" The second-largest brute began to waddle towards me. "Honey, you're gonna be here _all_ night long."

Okay- first thing to know about me. Taunting does not go over well. And the fact they were making all those bird jokes... Well, let's just say they were funnier than these douche bags thought, and about to become puns.

"Hey losers," I flashed a grin, "think you can handle a little dove like me?" I curled my back up as my large, grey wings burst from my back as my pack flew off. I grinned at their shocked expressions, flicking on and tossing out a lighter from my pocket for effect. "Let's play. And boys," I tied my hair back in a ponytail, "I play dirty."

But before I could kick the crap out of the losers in front of me, the entire left side of the building was suddenly blown to smithereens. The three pigs flew through the air as I was knocked from the door and outside. Angrily, I picked myself up to storm back through the door.

"What was the Hell was _that_?!" I yelled, even though I already had a pretty good idea of just what it was. Two forms were illuminated against the black smoke, one sauntering towards the three men. The newcomer grabbed the smallest's collar and picked him up about a foot, shaking him hard. "Where's Pete Gibson?" He demanded.

"His girlfriend lives down on Suckleberry Street," the man stuttered, blood clotting on his head above his eyes. The threatening party began back to the oh-so-subtle GIANT FREAKING HOLE he had blown through the side of the building, but I stopped him, standing right in his way.

"Fang." My hands found my hips as I cocked my head at him.

"Ah, Max." The tall man-slash-boy (depending on my mood) stood over me, his dark hair ruffling slightly in the sudden breeze.

"You have such a way with words, it's like you just subtly coax the answers out of people." I smiled cheekily.

"I may not have your tan-line, but I _do_ know how to make an entrance." He smirked as I heard his partner Iggy, cleaning up the TNT. "Now of you'll excuse me," he tried to pass, but I stopped him.

"'Fraid I can't do that." I shoved his slightly aside.

"And why's that? Gettin' hot on me already?" He crossed his arms.

"No, because this bounty's mine." I stated the facts.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? How 'bout the first one to take him down..." he considered, then his face lit up with an idea I knew I would not like. "Give's the other a lap dance."

I gave a laugh that cut off quick with a frown. "Yes offense, I don't want a lap dance. Especially from _you_."

"Good, because you're not going to win." He tried to push passed again, and again I reminded him why I was the best female bounty hunter in the US.

"If I win, you got to stay outta the game for the next week. No catches, no cash. Got it?" I checked his face. He gave a teasing, cocky, semi-attractive smile. Not that I thought he was attractive. Pfft- certain breeds of _beaver_ were more physically appealing to me than his dope.

"Deal. Wanna shake on it, or just gimme the dance here and now."

"Wastin' time, Romeo." I sauntered out of the building, making sure not to appear rushed. As soon as I was out, though, I made like Hell to my Jeep, jumped in and began tearin' out of town to Suckleberry Street. What kind of name was that? The omens just kept freaking popping up.

-

_So should I keep it up? Reviews- unsigned cool by me…_


	2. What You Do For Money Honey

DIRT DEEDS DONE DIRT CHEAP

-

_So, I got some 'okay, give it a try's on this story, so I guess I'm gonna go ahead and give it a try. Max Bounty Hunter, same with Nudge, Fang and Iggy. The others are a'comin' in too, don'tcha worry 'bout it. (Song by AC/DC)._

_-for anyone who didn't or doesn't know, a bounty hunter is someone who brings in the people who skip bail or just have done nasty things, escaped from jail, ect. Then the hunters collect the reward._

_-_

"_What do you do for money honey?_

_How do you get your kicks?_

_What do you do for money honey?_

_How do you get your licks?"_

_-AC/DC_

-

You wouldn't believe how fast I can drive without getting ticketed. It's all about what streets you take and when you put on your turn signal and act good, and when you burn rubber. I'm pretty sure I could beat any Vegas native in a drag race through the city, though I wouldn't bet my red Jeep on it. Damn I loved this Jeep.

Oh, and for those confused about just how my rival in the bounty-world didn't hit the roof when he saw my GIANT-ASS WINGS, it goes like this: They're really a pain to hide, so pretty much everyone I take in, everyone I beat down and everyone I have had a social acquaintance with more than once, knows how I goes. Or, fly, for that matter.

And it's not like I'm the only freakshow in the west, you should see my half-brother.

My cell rung as I shrieked around a corner. "Talk to me." See how I answer my phone? I am _so_ badass.

"Yeah, it's Nudge."

I rolled my eyes. "How's your 'sick day' going? Wanna throw in a convincing cough for me?"

"You on the Gibson case?" She ignored my last comment.

"Yeah, why? Wanna lend a hand or just sit over there like a lazy-bum?"

"Listen, I have information on where he's staying."

"Little late, baby. Already got that he's on Suckleberry with his girl."

"Not unless his girl lives in a government factory. All that's down Suckleberry is nuclear plants."

"Really? How long that been true?"

"Uh, only, like, ten years."

Huh. I guess I didn't know the city quite as well as I bragged. Good thing I got that outta the way before I managed to embarrass myself with wrong info. "So spill it Nudge, where's he at?"

"Nice use of prepositions. I mean, I know you aren't from Grenetch Village, but still-"

"_Nudge_. The info." God, that girl would tangent if you didn't stop her.

"Right. His family house is down on Orelly Street-"

"Thanks." I began to turn around in a driveway.

"BUT I wouldn't look there if I were you. I slammed on the brakes and waited. "His friend Tucker Lancing lives down at Benson Lane."

"You know, Nudge, you could have saved me gas and you time if you had just told me that HALF AN HOUR AGO."

"First off all, I have only been on the phone with you for five minutes, and second off, I'm _really_ bored here at home."

"You're really sick, huh?"

She gave a convincing cough. "Believe me now?"

I sighed. "Later, Nudge. Feel better."

"Yes, ma'am. Over and out." She hung up with her cute little dialog which I hoped never to sound as dorky saying as she did.

I began halfway across the world-I-mean-town to get to Lancing's house. Bad news- I was going to need gas. Good news- there were going to be no lap dances tonight.

-

I hit the downtown area and remembered why I almost never took it. It was clogged with middle age, middleweight America, and before I could roll outta that puppy, some moron swooped in to block me. So I was stuck, at least until I found another exit. I did, I got gas and I hit the floor over to Benson Lane. And guess who was already parked outside?

I slammed my door with a string of curses that I was actually quite proud of in that particular order, and stormed over to the blue van that had seen better days (and many better drivers).

Fang and Iggy were still outside, Iggy who is, let-me-just-inform-you-because-no-one-else-will BLIND. Yeah, I know. I occasionally make it my habit to get beaten by a testosterone-filled cowboy and his blind sidekick. Holy lame excuses, Batman!

Whatever, I walked up to them as they hooked up the dynamite. "How'd you get this location?" I crossed my arms before my chest.

"Your wings are dangling out, Hawkgirl." I gave another one of those quick laughs that turns into a frown.

"Your stupid's hanging out, Pengiun."

He just smiled over at me from behind though Oakly shades he had had since I had had the pleasure of meeting his aquaintance. "We got here first, I win."

"Uh, no," I cleared my throat like one of those old men explaining Quantum Mechanics or something, "actually, the deal was to _bring in_ tbe bounty, not 'I saw it first'. And by-the-way, I'd think twice about blowing up private property that's not part of a drug-ring."

He gave me a look, but I knew I had gotten to him. "_Fine_," he tossed down his equipment. You know, like his tools? Oh, you know what I meant. "Then let's just do this the old fashioned way. Bringin' him in." He began down the front path to the fairly nice house of suburbia.

"One problem then, Mungo," I slapped his across his stomach so he gave an 'oof'. "Ladies first." And I began down the path as he followed.

"Fang? Fang? Thanks, guys." Iggy called from back at the car as we headed in. We both stood before the door.

"First one to get the kid..." I reminded him.

He flashed another smile, "get's that Golden Cupie Doll."

And we both put our feet up, smashing in the door simultaneously. But then, there was trouble, because just as there was the sound of helicopters and sirens. "Shit! Cops!" I turned on my heels as Fang grabbed my arm firmly to hold me down and under the porch. A chopper flew over. I gave him a glare, then tore off to my Jeep and leapt in. Iggy was cleaning up as Fang jumped in their van, yelling something at him when I sped away.

-

Okay, here's the story. Cops and hunters get along pretty well with the right balance put in place. Cops like hunters because it means that _they_ don't have to track down all the stray cats in the world. In turn, the cops don't bust us up for some of the less-legal methods we use to 'get the bad guy'. Hunter's like cops fine, as long as they stay out of our way and nobody calls them. (That famous line, 'I'm gonna call the cops'? Enough to strike fear into any hunter's heart.) Anyway, in a perfect world, cops and hunters would co-exist peacefully and always get along and happy little bunnies and birdies would frolic all over the meadow and Bambi's mother wouldn't have been shot.

This is not that world, and sometimes, the cops make the call to chase down the criminal themselves. In such a case, any bounty hunter at the scene better em scray unless they want the entire platoon beating down on their ass about illegal this and that and how I shot J.R. (Sorry about that last reference, gotta love the old soaps.)

So, in short, when a cop car shows, you get the Hell outta there and hope for better luck next time. Which is exactly what I did, driving back to my apartment to pick up Angel then go check in on Nudge, see if she really _was_ sick. Maybe I'd bring some chicken soup...

-

Angel Resscoli was this little girl, only six, who lived in the apartment across from mine. Her parents were, let's just say, _less that attentive_, though Angel never complained except to express desire to come live with me. Angel's older brother had been put up for adoption before Angel had been born and was now God knows where, could of been in China for all I knew, but all Angel's little heart desired (besides to live with 'Miss Max') was to find her brother. The task couldn't have been labeled too difficult if he were in the city, the mother and (I assume) any offspring that sprung from her womb had golden blonde ringlets and bright, clear blue eyes. Wish _I_ looked like that, it's make my job a helluva lot easier...

Anyway, I made a pit stop by Angel's now that I knew today's job was botched and that I had to wait for another from Anne. Sometimes I just took Angel out for the day, usually returning her by the time a parent got home. Sometimes I got her back late. The conscious parent would usually just open the door and blink, like they hadn't even noticed she was missing. As for when she was alone, I hardly ever had to knock, Angel claimed she knew my footsteps. The door swung open widely.

Though it was Saturday her parents (like always) weren't home and she was eager to get out of the junkie apartment. "Miss Max!" She greeted me, jumping into my arms. I laughed and spun her around.

"You want to come over to Nudge's house with me, Angel? I'll make you lunch there." She grinned and nodded, taking my hand and following me to the Jeep. As she walked in her little sleeveless pink dress I noticed a dark purple mark just hiding above her shoulder. She hadn't mentioned it, so I bit my tongue. She climbed in the passenger's seat.

"I love Ratty," she sighed as she leaned back in her seat and began to tell me about her week at school. The name for my car she had developed in the passed month was due to her schoolbook that she had taken a liking to, _The Wind in the Willows_, which, though I had never read, I was glad she was liking it. Loving books. Something I never had time to do.

By the time we arrived at Nudge's I had heard all about a boy named Jeremy who chased her all over the playground and whom she professed extreme hate towards, though I, being the wise-prophet -slash-been-there human I am, knew she had quite the crush on the lucky little boy with 'black hair and freckles'.

When I knocked on the door to Nudge's apartment, there was a shuffling noise until the door was opened by a droopy, sad-looking Nudge wrapped in a blanket. She sneezed. "Hi Miss Nudge!" Angel grinned happily as I rested my hand on her head.

"Oh, why did you bring her, she's going to get all sick!" Nudge complained as Angel and I followed her hunched form into her tissue-filled apartment.

"Geez, did a tissue-tornado hit here?" I lifted a few from the couch into the trash before sitting down.

"_I'll_ get them!" Angel claimed the job as her's as she began to find all of the tissues and shove them in the various trashcans. Nudge sniffled and sat down next to me.

"Stay away, sicky,_ I_ don't want it." I held up my hands in a cross and Nudge scooted to the opposite end of the couch, which, I'll be, wasn't particularly far away. "Saw Fang and Iggy today. Screwed up my plans, _again_." I grumbled as Nudge began a giggle that, to my delight, turned into a nasty cough. That's what she gets for making fun of me.

My cell rung. "Talk to me."

"It's Anne. Those were police on you, we saw it on the news." The 'we' reffered to her and her boyfriend whose name I had this nasty habit of forgetting, mostly just to piss her off. What can I say, he was an ex-con. What the Hell is _she_ doing with him, even if they _did_ meet in high school. Thankfully, the relationship was on-again off-again, so I only had to deal with him about 26 weeks out of the year.

"Yeah, so?" Nudge had begun to paw at me to hear, so I turned her on speaker-phone.

"So the job I gave you was routine, nothing big. Those cops shouldn't have been there, unless..."

"Unless what, Anne?" I was beginning to become impatient.

"Who was that with you?" She artfully changed the subject.

I waved it off. "Fang. That hunter who's always stepping on my toes? Yeah, well, he was at it again today."

"Oh." There was a pause in which I began to become impatient. "Let's hope they were after _him_."

I paused. "Whaddya mean? Anne? What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I demanded into the phone.

"Listen, I'll call you back. Gotta go."

"Wait- Anne! Anne!" I yelled as I heard the phone click off. I spun on Nudge. "What the heck was up with _that_?"

Nudge shrugged, reaching over for her warm tea. I rolled my eyes, exasperated with the fact that nothing was ever easy. "Alright, you keep Angel, I'm going to figure this out." I stood as Nudge shuffled after me with protests.

Second thing to know about me- my mind is very, _very _hard to change. "C'mon, Max, what am _I_ supposed to do with a six-year-old girl?"

"I dunno Nudge, use your imagination." I opened the door. "She likes chocolate milkshakes and Monopoly." I shut the door in Nudge's still-protesting face.

-

I drove downtown to a place I _hated_ visiting, but if someone had a hit out on me and if Anne weren't going to spill, I'd have to dig it up from somewhere. And, though making friends was not my strongest point (as you might have guessed), I still had one on the inside, who, by pure lucky coincidence, was right then _out_side. He leaned against the building with a smoke in his hand and, occasionally, his mouth.

"Sam," I greeted the young cop outside the precinct.

"Geez Max, aren't you, like, breaking the bounty hunter's number one rule- don't get within twenty miles and three restraining orders of the local precinct?" He walked over to me so we stood on the sidewalk before the police building.

"I only learn the rules to break 'em." I grinned as he flicked his hair from his face in the motion that made me remember why I had (briefly) dated him.

"Although I would love to stand here and chat and believe the reason you are braving the local badges is to see _me_, what do you need, Max?"

"So smart, that's how I like 'em." I pinched his cheek as he shied away with a slight smile, taking another draw from his cigarette. "I need to know, does anyone have a hit out on me?"

"And if it were for fifty thousand, would you turn yourself in?" He grinned but then shook his head. "Not that I know of. And I would know." He blew out.

I bit. "Why?"

"Bangin' the captain's secretary." He puffed out his chest a little.

"More benefits than bangin' a local bounty hunter I suppose." I crossed my arms.

"The benefits from you was never about the information." He promised.

"Oh, just what every woman wants to hear." I smiled an actual smile up at him.

"But thanks, Sam. I owe you." I began away.

"Max, you've owed me since you broke my heart- I'm just adding on to your tab and collecting interest."

I smiled as I climbed back into my Jeep. I did like Sam, but dating an officer? Not for me. Actually, if you put it that way, dating in general? Well, let's just say, the right man might be out there, but I was more likely to kick his ass than to ask him to the movies.

-

But now I had to get down to business. The police, on the lower chain-of-commands at least, didn't know, so I had to extend my search. And now I had to make my way to a place I _really_ hated. I mean, the precinct was Woodstock compared to my next destination. The cops were oomba loompas. The choppers were bunny rabbits. Or, I guess birdies, you know, because they flew...

Anyway, where I was headed, in case you didn't pick up on it, was a place I did _not_ want to go. Hell, in the presence of Lucifer himself, in the form of my half-brother Ari.

-

_Reviews and feedback loved (naturally)! Anything I am doing wrong (or right!) and how you would like to see people portrayed? No obligations, just if you want and for fun._


	3. Shoot to Thrill

DIRTY DEEDS DONE DIRT CHEAP

-

_So, little more explanation here, though more will come, along with other things… No, kidding, this is totally T. 'Cept when it's not…_

_-_

"_Shoot to thrill, play to kill,_

_Too many women with too many pills,_

_Shoot to thrill, play to kill_

_I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will,_

_'Cause I shoot to thrill, and I'm ready to kill,_

_I can't get enough, I can't get the thrill,_

_I shoot to thrill, play to kill-_

_Yeah, pull the trigger"_

_-_

Ari did what we did, he just did it _against_ the law rather than for it. Ari was a hitman, fairly low-class and rather affordable. If anyone in erm, 'lower society' had a hit out on me, Ari would know. He lived in some slum and blew most of his cash on drugs, I assumed. I really didn't know. The only connection I had with Ari was the fact that we had grown up with the same foster father, so, technically, we weren't even related at all. I had left the house at twelve when I ran away, when Ari was only nine. But like I had grown freaky-deaky wings in my time with the Jeb, Ari had also managed to come out scarred. And not like on MTV.

My DNA had been bound with a bird's. His had been bound with a wolf's. Not as cool as the movies make it sound, trust me. Because of this weird dog-thing he had going on, his maturity rate had gone through the roof, making him, physically and mentally, about twenty-five now. This is the age he would (supposedly) remain until he died, though who knew when _that_ would be.

I knocked on the little crap apartment where rats were spotted more than tenants. It was no secret that Ari and I were not the best of friends, we had always been fighting for Jeb's attention and I usually got it. But when I left, Ari either left or was kicked out, something that he resented me for, I think.

"Who is it?" The yell was grumbled and I got the picture of him lying facedown on his bed.

"It's Max. Open up!" I banged on the door again.

"Max..." there was a pause. "Kick it down then, I'm not opening!" He yelled with a pissier attitude.

I slammed my fists against the door a few more times. Finally, I heard a thump and shuffled steps. The door swung open as the figure in the dark room flopped back onto the cot near the shuttered window. The bed was about a foot too short for his over-six-foot form as he lay in the dark. I scowled and clicked on a light.

I hadn't seen my half-brother in over two years (thankfully) and at this date he looked even more nocturnal than when I had left him last. He covered his eyes with a cry as the lights clicked on. "Off!" He yelled at me, so I switched it off. I sighed, standing in the door. "Close the door..." he mumbled. I pushed it shut.

"You gonna murder me in here?"

"Why?" He sat up now that the room was nice and dark, the only light coming from cracks in the blinds and from the gap under the door. "Should I?"

"I don't know. You're the Lord of the Underworld, you tell me. Does anyone have a hit out on me?" I leaned back on his slimy wall.

He perked up. "Not that I know, but I'd be happy to do it for free."

Suddenly, our phones rang. Both phones, at the same time. Never a good sign.

I counted to three on my fingers before we both answered. "Hello?" We asked at the same time.

"Hello Max/Ari, this is Jeb speaking. I have a mission for you. Find and bring me Ari/Max. If you bring them to me alive, there will be a reward greater than you have received. Don't worry about Ari/Max, we simply need them to talk." And the person hung up.

I clicked off my phone to look over at Ari. "Truce!" I yelled suddenly, holding my hands up, self-defensively. "Truce until I leave the apartment!" There was just no freaking way I was going to take on an over-six-foot top-hitman in this crummy little apartment.

He nodded, sleepily.

"What do they want with us? What does _Jeb_ want with us?" I slumped back next to Ari on his bed. As long as we were _both_ guests on America's Most Wanted, I didn't have _too_ much to fear.

"I didn't run away." He sat up to face me in the dark.

"Huh?" Not that his life story wasn't FASINATING, it was just now did not seem the time.

"I mean, Jeb told me to leave. To make sure you were okay. And not to come back." He turned towards the closed window.

I sighed. "I'm sorry, yada-yada-yada, your life sucks. Now what the hell are we supposed to do to get out of this?"

"I won't kill you if you don't kill me." He offered up the truce. I held out my hand.

"Deal." Wow, way to make a deal out of your life. Hell, it's what I do.

-

I battled my worst enemy that afternoon- rush-hour traffic. As I waited in line in front of an exit I _didn't_ need, my cell rung.

"Talk to me."

"Max. You have made a very unwise decision. You should have brought your brother in then and there. Turn yourself in."

I snorted out a laugh. "Right, Charlie, well this angel ain't doin' nothin' for you."

"Max. If you do not turn yourself in, your family will get hurt."

"HA. Joke's on you, Mr. Badguy, because I don't _have_ any family." It had sounded funnier in my head…

"You have nice friends, Max... a girl named Nudge? And that sweet little Angel... It would be a shame if something were to happen to them."

I shut my phone. I merged lanes and drove like a bat outta hell- Nudge and Angel were not about to get hurt on _my_ account.

I jumped when my phone rang again. This time I checked caller-id. It was Anne. "Hey Anne." Nice, I guess, to hear a familiar voice.

"Listen Max, I've got a job for you."

"Don't want it- I've got stuff to do." Gee, understatement of the century, much? 'Not doing much Anne, just being tracked by murders I escaped from who are now after my friends- the closest thing I have to family. Nope, not really doing anything at all- tea?'

"It's ten-thousand, Max."

I paused. That was _a lot_ of money. That could get us out of a hell of a lot of parking tickets on our way to New York, which I had decided was where we were headed- away from the war zone here. Yeah, I'll run. I'm not ashamed. We'll _all_ run, if that keeps us alive. Can't do shit when you're dead. "When?" I asked tentatively.

"Now. At Rosa Park." That was _literally_ two minutes from where I was. Alright, time to reality-check. I needed that money if we really were going to run away. Okay. Let's do this puppy. Let's make it beg.

"Who's the job?"

"Oh, _you'll_ see him." She hung up. I screeched my wheels like I was racing the hare. I hit the brakes outside the park, right in back of a blue van.

"He's _everywhere_..." I muttered as I tore into the park to see Iggy crouching near a tree and Fang standing ahead, gun loosely in hand on the lawn of the park. No one else was around. "What... Where's the badguy?"

Fang turned on me slowly, hands slightly up, "there is no '_badguy_'. It's a setup." He glanced up as helicopters began in.

"Oh f" but the chopper sounds drown me out.

"Let's move!" He tore passed me towards his van as Iggy must have gotten the mental image of us being chopped into little tiny pieces by giant choppers and took off for the van as well. I ran at my car when Fang ripped me around by the arm.

"Leggo!" I yelled at him, tugging away and feeling my wings ready to explode from my back.

"Idiot! Want them to shoot you down in your cute little no-top Jeep?!" He yanked me after him and into the van door, which Iggy had pulled open. Aw, he cared. How sentimental.

Fang got in the driver's seat and hit the gas so that I, not seat-belted down, flew so hard against the back wall I could feel my wings crunch.

"OW!" I bellowed, standing to shakily walk to the front of the van as Fang shot down the street.

"Sorry Princess, I'll try to slow it down next time we're RUNNING FROM PSYCHOPATHS."

"I know why they're after me, why the hell are they after _you_?" I gripped above his seat harshly as we rounded another sharp corner.

"Yeah, well, I've been around." he muttered as Iggy, apparently unfazed by the whole near-death experience, turned up the knob of the radio station.

So, let's re-camp. We were screaming down the streets of Vegas in a blue van at about 90 miles an hour, being chased by at least one helicopter, the van driven by a maniac who I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw him, and now AC/DC was screaming at me over the loud-speakers.

Now, I appreciate irony as much as the next mutant-bird-girl, but the lyrics 'I'm on the highway to Hell' were so _not_ humorous in the _least_.

And, to my horror, Fang began to belt it out as he rolled both windows down. "No stop signs, speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me dow-"

"This is SO NOT FUNNY!" I had to yell over the speakers.

"What?" Fang laughed as he pulled to a halting stop in front of Nudge's building.

"How did you know to go here?" I demanded. Fang scoffed.

"I didn't drive here for you, Domino." Iggy jumped out to find his way rather expertly (for a blind dude) into the building.

"Where's he..." but I watched as he met someone in the main lobby and they followed him out.

"Nudge?" I gawked as she and Angel chased him to the van and jumped in. "Angel? What are you doing with..."

"I've been seeing someone, I told you that." Nudge sniffled as she jumped into the van, Angel at her heels. "He called and said you'd be in trouble. I took Angel, hope you don't mind." Angel smiled up at me.

I shook my head to try to free whatever was stuck in there clogging up my brain into thinking any of this was real.

I jumped into the front seat before Iggy could as Fang sped off again, headed towards the highway. "Alright." I turned off the radio and stared right at Fang as his eyes tore from me to the road. "_What_ is going on. And Fang," I pulled out my handgun and pointed it at his big, inflated head. "Gimme it straight, or you won't ever give anyone anything again."

"Pity..." he smirked, "'cause I'm pretty damn good at it."

-

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